


the last of her kind

by blurryfaced



Series: (i said) here, is where i'll be living 'till my time's up [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Again, F/F, There's no plot, and i should probably be ashamed for that, both of them are girls this time, but I'm not, girl7 is my way of writing sweet stuff that isn't centred around anything apparently, please enjoy!!, so i decided to update this series and, uhh it's just jinyoung being v dorky and lovey to mark tbh, yay for girl7!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaced/pseuds/blurryfaced
Summary: jinyoung thinks being a part of mark’s universe could be the best thing in the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of feel bad for not posting stuff now that i have time to create, and it's taking me so long to update witch au... i've had this half-finished on my laptop for a while and decided that i needed to write something purely soft and gentle.
> 
> markjin is wonderful, thank you for listening.
> 
> —mack

_I want you the way I want_  
_the sea: wildly, recklessly,_  
 _gloriously_

_or the way the tides want_   
_the moon: deeply, eternally,_   
_passionately_

_like sailors want the stars_   
_to guide them through_   
_the ocean’s storms_

_I want you like lightning  
needs a sky to strike_

_I want you to be my sea_   
_and I, the storm that_   
_needs to breathe_

— [m.j. pearl](http://fairytalesques.tumblr.com/post/83723564853/lilyyevans-saltwater-lovers)

 

 

 

 

when jinyoung thinks of mark, she thinks of earbuds and quiet voices. she thinks of late nights sitting on her windowsill with the night sky stretched out before them, offering stars to them as if that’s all they ever wanted, and all they could ever want. she thinks of all the times she’s felt overwhelmed — by what, she can’t quite remember, or maybe she can but she doesn’t want to — when everyone is too loud and too obnoxious, and too close to her personal space until there’s a hand on her back and the familiar smell of oranges and cinnamon.

because that’s what mark smells of, you see. mark smells of oranges and cinnamon because of her body gel and the shampoo and conditioner she uses. jinyoung knows she didn’t notice it before she pointed it out to her, because mark’s like that, sometimes. she doesn’t notice the little things about herself.

jinyoung also thinks of jeans and checked shirts tied around hips. she thinks of long, wavy hair pulled over one shoulder and the other side buzzed short, showing off pierced ears and a prominent jaw. she thinks of a gentle american accent, dumb play on words and mispronunciations in korean.

she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to associate with every part of mark, because she’s sure that there’s so much more than what she knows— than what she’ll ever know. sometimes it scares her, truly. how can one person be so big? how can they have so much inside of them? she fears mark has a galaxy where her heart should be and if she shatters too much, she’ll become a supernova.

but that’s what she does, she thinks. mark’s role in life has been to surprise them all. if it was with her sudden announcement to not being straight, to fearing a childhood’s parents were splitting up, to worrying about her future, about her friends — the six of them caging her in from all sides —, to looking smug every time jackson retold the time she’d broken a man’s nose for not leaving jackson alone after she’d said no.

a finger pokes her forehead and jinyoung’s eyes focus on the face before her. it’s almost painful, the abrupt shift in focus, but she manages not to wince, manages not to pull a muscle, and she’s proud of herself.

“you think too much,” mark says, not moving from where she’s crouched over jinyoung’s legs.

“some would argue you don’t think enough,” she huffs back, exaggerating her lean away from mark and pulling a face. the taiwanese-american laughs and shakes her head, finally moving to sit next to her friend. “using your brain is good for you. I don’t know why you and the rest of them act as if you’re allergic to it.”

mark grins wide and leans back on her hands. jinyoung finds herself staring just a little too pointedly at her profile. “don’t deny that you like being smarter than the rest of us.”

giving a harsh sounding sniff, jinyoung tilts her chin up and pretends to be interested in the scenery around them. “I don’t know what you mean.”

mark’s laughter forces her façade to break and a smile to take its place.

the two of them have escaped for a moment to sit on a bench up a hill that used to be part of a park that’s no more after several hits of bad weather. it’s their place to go and simply enjoy each other’s company; watching the sun set and paint bursts of colours in the sky, all the while saying little or even nothing at all. sometimes, jinyoung brings her camera if she’s feeling inspired. and if it’s a good day, she’ll even let mark have a go at taking photos.

and today just so happens to be one of those days. jinyoung lets her focus move slowly from the buildings in the distance to the way mark’s fingers curl around her camera, the gentle touch the girl keeps in mind when handling such a precious piece of machinery. she’s got the same habit jinyoung has, of checking each picture after she’s taken it, of twisting the camera this way and that, just a little, to see if she can work with it at a later date.

(they both know mark knows nothing about editing. but it’s okay.)

and jinyoung’s thrown back to the moment when she and mark started hanging out more seriously, when the small conversations during lectures turned into silly words shared over coffee and cakes, when they’d wander down streets together and, eventually, stumble over this cute little bench that they would claim as their own.

jinyoung remembers the first time she’d seen mark cry and how she had almost turned the girl who’d broken her heart into a pug with how hard she wanted to punch her; she remembers the first time they went out together at night, kunpimook and jackson tagging along. it had been full of laughter and smiles, ridiculous dancing and stupid bets that never got sexual because, honestly, they were so _tired_ of relationships at that point in their lives. it had been nothing more than an outing of friends that lead onto two more, four more, until they were a weekly occurrence.

she thinks of the first time she got to hold mark’s hand, of the heat and weight she felt in her chest, of the flowers she was positive were growing between her ribs. she told mark this once, how her determination to do anything, her need to defy what the patriarchy told her to do in small, quiet moments, made jinyoung feel _alive_. mark had grinned wide, eyes disappearing into crescents and cheeks glowing a lively, rosy red.

hand holding and hugs don’t compare to slow kisses at dusk and waltzing when insomnia hits jinyoung and mark decides she could lose an hour or two of sleep, _it’s not a big deal_. well, they _try_ waltzing, but jinyoung is usually exhausted and mark doesn’t _really know_ how to waltz, so it ends up being a tired giggling fest of stumbling feet and yawns. it’s sweet and meaningful either way, tugging at the flowers in jinyoung’s chest until she thinks they’re going to suffocate her when they bloom.

jinyoung’s got her camera back now, mark’s hood slowly slipping from her head as she tilts her head back to look up at the sky. the light from the sun gives her profile a warm, orange outline and jinyoung’s fingertips _itch._

the sound of the shutter breaks through and suddenly jinyoung and mark are blinking at each other in surprise through the camera. she refuses to lower it, though, despite mark’s questioning gaze, and instead photographs her three more times over the next minute. she captures mark’s confusion, her amusement, and finally her soft smile, apples of her cheeks appearing ever so slightly.

“you look so healthy like this,” jinyoung mutters when she finally lowers her camera to her lap, gazing at mark’s face in the light.

mark laughs, loud and high-pitched and unexpected. she leans forward where she sits, hair swinging as it slips over her shoulder. shaking her head, she grins. “you always come out with the weirdest compliments.”

quietly, jinyoung slips her camera back into its bag, zips it up, and scoots closer to mark. she curls her fingers around one of her girlfriend’s hands, not at all surprised that mark in turn lets go of the bench to intertwine their fingers.

“I love you,” she murmurs, lidded eyes on a building miles away from where they are.

mark turns her head and gazes at jinyoung, eyes lingering on her eyes, nose, ears, lips. there’s a distinct feeling of being painted, and jinyoung finds herself wondering if mark sees a galaxy inside her, too, or if she’s reaching out and splashing some of her own universe on jinyoung.

the taiwanese-american leans forward and presses a soft, chaste kiss on jinyoung’s mouth. it’s not the deepest or most sensual kiss they’ve ever had; it’s not designed to take away jinyoung’s breath, to leave her heart yearning, to have her skin feel alive and her flowers bloom, but it does. it makes her feel as if she’s falling in love all over again.

“I love you, too,” mark whispers, the corners of her lips curling up.

jinyoung thinks being a part of mark’s universe could be the best thing in the world.


End file.
